


Avon's Jacket and the Cult That Loved it

by ProdigiousFeldspar



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, Humor, avon is a bastard man, cult shenanigans, hardly any shipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 12:53:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18073772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProdigiousFeldspar/pseuds/ProdigiousFeldspar
Summary: The gang has varying levels of fun on a new planet.





	Avon's Jacket and the Cult That Loved it

“The prophecy has come unto light!”

“We’ve been blessed! The Chosen one!”

“The Chosen one has graced us with his presence!” 

“The Chosen one!” Gasps rang out around the bustling marketplace, “It’s the Chosen one! He’s here!”

The Liberator crew all looked to a steely-eyed Blake. As much as Avon accused him of being a self-important megalomaniac, Blake was deeply unsettled by being placed on a pedestal. He couldn’t stand the idea of being in a position of power. He may be the face of the Freedom Party but he was just a man, like anyone else. Anyone who valued free will above all wouldn’t stand for mindless worship. People had to come to their own conclusions and make their own choices. He opened his mouth to protest before the crowd shoved him aside to converge on Avon.

“You’ve finally come to us to impart your holy wisdom, Chosen one!”

Blake blinked stupidly. 

“Some blokes have all the luck.” Villa said somberly, shaking his head.

Jenna crossed her arms, “He’s going to be insufferable.”

Cally hid a giggle behind her hand, “As if he wasn’t previously.”

Gan put a large, consoling hand on Blake’s shoulder. 

Avon glanced around, faux bored. It was obvious to anyone who knew him he was giddy, “Yes, yes, but before I impart my… Holy wisdom, was it?” He grinned, all teeth, “shouldn’t you all be paying tribute?”

Utter Chaos. The townsfolk clamored, offering him fruits, handfuls of cash, gold pieces, musical instruments (the harp was a bit gaudy), silks and lace, candles, jewelry and everything in between. A woman ripped the gun from Vila’s waist and offered it up as well. (No loss there. Vila didn’t care for guns anyhow, especially when they were pointed his way).

Avon eyed the wares, “Hm… Yes, this will do nicely.” He snapped his fingers at his fellow freedom fighters, “Attendants, come take these offerings.”

Blake folded his arms and glared, but conceded when Jenna elbowed him in the ribs. Avon gave him the harp to carry. Of course. 

“Give it here.” Gan said, hefting it over a shoulder easily. Blank nodded in thanks and ignored the sour look Avon gave him. 

Noticing just who is was that she stole a gun from, the woman cautiously attached it back on Vila’s holster. Vila winked at her. She smiled back coyly, then turned and wrestled a piece of pottery from a child’s arms and thrust it at Avon. Vila pouted. What else was new? Maybe he could hack it making some money and ladyfriends by claiming to be the Chosen one’s spiritual adviser. He could pull it off. But probably not while wearing the lace Cally had just thrown over his head. Maybe she was onto something, though. Vila was sure he looked mysterious and mystical. 

Blake wanted to object to all of the gifts, but having Avon being mistaken as a deity incarnate was a surefire way to get the backwater planet to join the rebellion before the Federation got to them. It was distasteful now, but it would be best for the populace in the long run. Blake cringed as a man produced an archaic felt tip pen and Avon used it to sign his name on an infant’s forehead.

\---

A grand celebration was held in a stone castle. The large dining hall was filled to the brim with people avid to worship. More and more of the planet’s residents were arriving, desperate to see the hallowed Chosen one. 

In the center of the room was a marble dias, on it the Chosen one was smirking like a bastard, and in front of it, a metal fixture holding a roaring fire.

A tapestry hovered above the flames, depicting a very Avon-esque figure wearing that stupid leather jacket with the metal studs in it. It always reminded Villa of a cheesegrater. Jenna almost died laughing the first time she saw him wearing it. Gan admired the aesthetics and figured it would make Avon a decent blunt weapon to be swung around in a fight. Cally gave up understanding human fashion long ago. Blake thought it was a appalling, and it made the fact that he looked devilishly handsome in it infinitely worse. 

A chant rose from the locals, begging for answers. A hush fell over the room as Avon raised a hand. Jenna pondered grabbing said hand and smacking him in the face with it. ‘Stop hitting yourself, Chosen one, stop hitting yourself!’ A cult following probably would think it was a marvelous and masterful play of manipulation on Avon’s part. She dismissed the idea but felt Cally’s mind brush hers and looked to see her biting back a smile. 

Avon addressed the enraptured crowd, “As part of my divine wisdom, I implore you to join the Freedom Party. The Federation brings nothing but suffering and inhuman cruelty,”  
‘The same could be said for you on a good day,’ Vila thought, pocketing a distracted person’s wristwatch.  
He swept a hand above the crowd, their eyes following it. Just what were they expecting? He was here and spewing zealous nonsense. It was every religious fanatic’s wet dream. Oh well, he was a fantastic actor and it was always fun to perform for an audience. “Join the revolution and help the rebel’s message come to fruition. You will be greatly rewarded and gain a new purpose in life. You shall know peace and all that you desire will come to you easily.” He raised a fist to the heavens, "That is the divine prophecy and holy wisdom!"  
Blake scowled and wished Avon would come to him easily - NO he was angry with Avon. This was such a sham. It was supposed to be 'divine wisdom', 'not holy wisdom'. Avon could at least respect these people's beliefs enough to remember. 

The crowd roared with applause and weeping. The planet’s patriarch spoke up, “Anything you say, Chosen one! We will join the revolution post haste!”

More applause. A few people fainted. 

Avon gave Blake a look over the crowd as if to say, ‘easy wasn’t it? I can’t imagine how you can muck up recruiting so much.’

Blake wondered how severe the punishment would be for decking the ‘Chosen one’ in the teeth. Most likely beheading. Throwing Avon into the fire however would probably result in hanging. Blake weighed his options.

\---

A week later, Servalan arrived on the planet in a leather studded jacket and spread her arms. “The Chosen one has arrived! What do you have to offer me?”

She was chased off by a mob filled with righteous fury for being an 'impostor'.

She gingerly reapplied her makeup. Whatever, that jacket was ugly, anyhow.

**Author's Note:**

> IT IS ALMOST 3AM AND MY MIND WON'T STOP.  
> This was super fun. no drafts, today we die like men.


End file.
